Devotion
by Ichireiro
Summary: Peter, a guardian angel, watches his newest charge—Isaac Mendez, an artist whose life is beginning to spiral out of control.
1. Calling All Angels

**A/N: **I think that the idea for this came about because I recently started watching Supernatural and I'm really interested in Castiel and the other angels. So, because of my new angel fixation, me and my friend were discussing what the Heroes characters would look like as angels. I couldn't get the idea of Peter being an angel out of my head, and then Isaac came up; along with him came the idea for this.

**Pairing: **Peter/Isaac.

**Summary: **Peter, a guardian angel, watches his newest charge—Isaac Mendez, an artist whose life is beginning to spiral out of control.

_I need a sign to let me know you're here_

_All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere_

_I need to know that things are gonna look up_

_'Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup_

_Where there is no place safe and no safe place to put my head_

_When you feel the world shake from the words that are said_

_And I'm calling all angels_

_I'm calling all you angels_

Train – Calling All Angels

Devotion 

Chapter One

Calling All Angels

Peter was sitting on the rooftop of the Deveaux Building, his legs crossed at the ankles. He watched, the brown hue of his eyes shining brightly, as people moved around on the busy streets below him. He had been perched there, just watching, for a little over an hour now. His angelic eyes could see far more than a humans could and he saw the person that he had been waiting for before he had even had time to turn the corner and walk onto the street.

Peter had been an angel for about a century now. He had been in training, learning how to fill his role as one of God's soldiers as best as he could. Peter was good at being an angel; while he had been alive, he had been a kind and caring soul. It only seemed fitting that his empathic soul would just get kinder as the years moved on and it became older and wiser.

Angels were assigned to watch over charges—fallen souls who needed help getting back up on their feet. Each angel is assigned to a certain amount of charges to watch over depending on long they've been training as one of God's soldiers. Because Peter was about to reach his century mark as an angel of the Lord, he had just gained the privilege of getting his first charge—the man that he had just spotted.

Peter's newly assigned charge was obviously a man, despite the fact that his hair was longer than what most would call average. Peter, knowing for years—even before Isaac had been born—that the man would be his charge, had been watching him for years. He knew everything that there was to be known about Isaac Mendez.

He had watched Isaac grow from a small boy to the handsome man that he was now. He had watched as Isaac started his own comic book company in two-thousand and one, naming it after his uncle, who had been the only one who had really ever supported him. He had watched as Isaac had started his relationship with his off and on girlfriend, Simone Deveaux, in two-thousand and four. He had also watched when Isaac had first injected himself with heroin. It had all been down-hill from there, but Isaac's life had never exactly been _perfect. _Isaac's fate had been to have a horrible life, but it had also been to be saved from it—and that's where Peter would come in.

Isaac had reached the doors to the Deveaux building—Peter had known that that would be where the man would be heading, so he had waited there patiently for him—but paused before entering it. He looked up, his brow furrowing, as if he could sense Peter staring down at him. It was a possibility that he _could _sense the angel's eyes on him; though Isaac didn't know that he had a guardian angel watching out for him yet, angels _were_ connected to their charges, and they could usually sense each other's presence. Peter hadn't been expecting the connection between them to be so strong already that Isaac could sense him at such a distance, but it was a good sign; it meant that they would share a strong bond in the future. A feeling of happiness—not every angel's charge was able to pick up them being near so fast—shot through Peter's body, but he was glad that he had made himself invisible to the human eye; as happy as he was that Isaac could sense his presence, he knew that it wasn't time for the man to find out about who he really was just yet. All good things in time.

He could see Isaac shrug his shoulders before he looked away from the spot that he had been starting—his gaze had pierced through the very spot that Peter's head had been and for a split second, the angel really had to wonder if Isaac _could _see him; the thought was impossible, he knew, but he couldn't help it from entering his mind—and entered into the building. Simone lived in it, Peter knew, and Isaac was going to visit her.

The building was nicer than what the artist himself lived in, but he preferred his loft to it. The loft was messy and paint stained, but it felt more at home to the man; Peter hoped that he would be able to set foot in it soon himself. It all depended on how long Isaac stayed in Simone's building; Peter could follow him home when he went. After all, it was Peter's job to protect the man now, and he would have to follow him around a lot to fulfill his mission. The angel wasn't complaining though. His charge interested him, and he wanted to help the man get back on the right track.

Peter stood up, his back stiff, and took a deep, unneeded breath before he closed his eyes and concentrated on materializing inside the building. He could teleport himself easily—being an angel of the God Almighty _did _have its perks—and though he prefered flying from place to place, teleporting was faster; besides, it would not do him any good to be spotted flying into a building. The city was a crowded one and he would have to be careful not to be seen doing anything other worldly.

He had teleported inside the building and made himself visible without anyone seeing him successfully. He exhaled a relieved breath—angels didn't need to breath, but for some it was a habit—and peeked around the corner that he had materialized by. He could see his charge coming his way and he ducked his head back without being seen.

He couldn't just come out and tell Isaac that he was an angel sent from Heaven to watch over him. There was no way that the man would believe him. In fact, Peter would probably get punched in the face, considering the temper that Isaac possessed sometimes. Peter had heard stories from angels who had just rushed into their cases, not taking the time to actually _meet _the person that they would be watching over for thousands of years; even after their charge has died, an angel will still watch over their soul to be ensured that they're happy. The case never goes smoothly after that, and most angels learn to be patient.

Peter's older brother, Nathan, had already gave him a run-through of what he should and shouldn't do with his charge, and Peter was prepared—the first thing that Nathan told him was to watch him for a bit longer, not to just rush in there. Peter had listened, deciding that it was a good idea to listen to his brother and not to announce himself as an angel, but just because he had decided on _that, _it didn't mean that he would listen to everything that Nathan had said. After all, Nathan had told him that he should simply watch Isaac for a bit longer, and that wasn't something that Peter thought he could do.

Angels could appear in whatever form they chose while they walked in the human world. It was a useful technique, one used to alleviate suspicion among the people that angels were walking among them. Only chaos could happen if the general mass found out that their neighbores, their friends, their coworkers, even parts of their families—it wasn't completely rare for an angel and a human to mate together and start a family if the bond between them was strong enough—were angels in disguise.

Peter had picked the form of what he had looked like as a human years before, but with a few small alterations. His brown hair hair, which had been shorter when he was alive, was now longer than he was used to—though it was far shorter than Isaac's—and he had bangs now that fell in his line of vision often, but he liked it; it was stylish and would help him fit in. His clothes were casual-a plain red shirt, blue jeans, and a long, button-down coat—and would also help him fit in with the people buzzing around the city. He was as inconspicuous as he was going to get.

He took another unneeded breath, waiting, excited to finally meet his charge for the first time. He could sense that Isaac was coming closer, and it would only be a matter of seconds before the man rounded the corner and bumped into him—literally. Peter had picked the spot that he was in on purpose; he was hoping that Isaac would run into him so he would have an excuse to talk to the man, even if it was only for a few seconds.

Peter didn't have to wait long before he felt a body—warm and strong, going by the small contact—turn the corner and run into his own. The collision would normally knock someone Peter's size down—Isaac was a bit larger than him and the collision hadn't been a soft one—but angel's had good balance. Still, for an excuse to touch his charge for just a little bit longer—Peter could feel a _spark _when he touched Isaac, almost like an _itch _under his skin, and he had to wonder if every angel felt the way he did when they came in close contact with a charge—Peter grabbed onto the hoodie that Isaac was wearing, feigning imbalance.

The angel brought his line of sight, which had been resting on where his hands were holding onto Isaac's hoodie, up to the man's face. Isaac seemed slightly surprised at having a complete stranger clinging to him, his brown eyes wide, but he hadn't made a move to push Peter away yet. It was quite the opposite, really; when Isaac had felt that he had ran into something, he had reached out to grab it before it could fall. The ending result was Isaac Mendez holding onto the elbows of someone who he had never met, the guy clinging to him in return.

They would make an odd sight to anyone watching, and Peter had a feeling that the other angels up in Heaven were doing just that at that very moment—watching him with his new charge and laughing at him. It was just a feeling that he had though, and that didn't mean that it was true; it didn't mean that it _wasn't _true either. The angels had a weird sense of humor.

"Whoa there," Peter's lip quirked up in a half smile as he spoke. "You should be more careful."

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say at that moment because Isaac's eyes, no longer wide, narrowed slightly and he let go of Peter, stepping back a bit. The sensation at being so close to Isaac didn't disappear from Peter completely when his charge stepped away, but it had dimmed significantly. It left the angel feeling slightly empty, something that he hadn't felt in decades, not since he was human, and he didn't like it. He shifted from one foot to another, his hands dropping to his sides, and a frown marring his face. It was hard for him to not reach out and touch Isaac's hand—he was sure that the small touch would burn away the emptiness that was filling him—but he was an angel, and that meant that he was good at fighting off temptation.

"Maybe you shouldn't huddle against a _wall._"

Peter knew the length of Isaac's temper—he _had _been watching the man his whole life. The angel took a step back and held up his hands, signalling peace. He didn't want to be under the wrath of Isaac's anger, but more than that he didn't want his charge to hate him, especially not this early on.

Peter was sure that if the angels up in Heaven weren't laughing at him before, they definitely were now.

"Whoa, whoa. I didn't mean..I just meant.."

How was he supposed to approach this situation? What could get him out of trouble here? What could calm his charge? New York could be a tough place to live at times, and Isaac had probably thought that Peter was going to start something with him. After all, who wouldn't say something rude to the homeless looking guy—Isaac didn't really look homeless, but he _did _look poor; he was covered in paint and looked a bit sickly, especially around the eyes, and it wouldn't be hard to guess that he was on drugs—that had just ran into you? Peter may not look like the type to start a fight, but you never know with people in the city.

Peter had watched this man for years, had watched _people _for _decades, _but he wasn't sure how to deal with confrontation just yet; he wasn't sure how to calm the man standing before him down. He wasn't sure how to make his charge like him. He _was _slowly becoming sure of one thing though—that he should have listened to Nathan after all. He was beginning to wish that his older brother would show up and get him out of the mess that he had put himself into, but he knew that Isaac was his charge, and therefore his own responsibility.

"Isaac!"

Or not. Both Isaac and Peter turned to look in the direction that the voice calling Isaac's name had came from. Standing there and looking _very _upset was the reason that Isaac had even came to the building in the first place—Simone Deveaux. Simone wasn't Peter's charge, of course, so he hadn't sensed her coming, but it shouldn't have surprised him. She had probably been waiting for Isaac for a while now. The man had showed up late already, Peter knew; he had been waiting on the rooftop a half hour longer than he had thought he would have to. Peter could tell by the expression on her face that she was suspicious; her suspicion only grew as she glanced between the two men.

"Come on. We're going to be late."

He watched Isaac out of the corner of his eye. He could see the man nod at his girlfriend before he turned his head to give Peter one last glare; Peter could feel Isaac's gaze burn into him better than he saw it; the man had an intense stare. The man's eyes narrowed a bit once again at his angel, but he turned away and followed after Simone.

A soft sigh escaped Peter's lips, though he didn't know whether it was one of relief or not. He had got out of the situation without causing anymore harm to be done with the relationship that would form between him and his charge, but things could have went better. Next time, he decided, he would listen to Nathan.


	2. May Angels Lead You In

**A/N: **This chapter was a bit hard for me to write, but I like it. Enjoy.

**Pairing: **Peter/Isaac.

**Summary: **Peter, a guardian angel, watches his newest charge—Isaac Mendez, an artist whose life is beginning to spiral out of control.

_May angels lead you in_

_Hear you me my friends_

_On sleepless roads the sleeples go_

_May angels lead you in_

Jimmy Eat World – May Angels Lead You In (Hear You Me)

Devotion

Chapter Two

May Angels Lead You In

Peter had chose not to follow Isaac, allowing the man to have privacy with his girlfriend. He was sitting on top of the Deveaux Building once again, his legs crossed at the ankles like they had been earlier that evening, waiting for the couple—or, more specifically, his charge—to return, when he felt a presence beside him.

"Hello, Nathan."

Peter considered all of the angels in Heaven his brothers and sisters, but Nathan was different; Nathan had been his actual brother when he was still alive. They had been close to each other while they were still both alive, and that closeness had continued in the afterlife. Nathan's presence caused Peter to feel a certain calmness wash over him that relaxed him; the emptiness that the run in with Isaac Mendez had caused was evaporating a bit—but only a bit. Peter had a feeling that the only way to get rid of the pit in his stomach was to touch the man again. If Peter wasn't such a good angel, then he would be burning with impatience for Isaac and Simone to return to her building. He would wait though. He didn't have a plan yet, anyway.

"Hello, Pete."

Peter could feel Nathan come up behind him and place a hand on his shoulder. Nathan did that—touched Peter—a lot. He knew that it comforted his brother when something was bothering him, and it had developed as a habit to touch each other over the years. It was just something that they did. Their parents weren't the best in the world when they were alive, so if they ever wanted comfort, they had to get it from each other. Whether Nathan had placed his hand on his shoulder because he could sense something was wrong or because it was pure habit, Peter didn't know, but he didn't mind it.

"I saw what you did earlier, Pete."

A light squeeze on Peter's shoulder before the hand removed itself told Peter that this was the part where Nathan would say 'I told you so.'

"Me and some of the others were watching. I'm really disappointed in you, Pete. You should have listened to me. You should have..."

Peter could remember a conversation almost exactly like the one that was happening at that moment that had happened when they were still human. He knew that if he didn't stop his older brother now before he really got started on the lecture, then it would go on far too long for his own liking; he head learned when they were younger that Nathan liked the sound of his own voice and could talk for ages, especially if he was giving his younger brother a lecture.

"I know, I know."

He tilted his head up, his bangs falling in his face a bit, to look at the man standing behind him. _Better stop him before he gets a chance to really start, _he thought to himself. He held up his hands, signalling for his brother to stop talking and to let him get a chance to speak for himself. When Nathan nodded to him, telling him without words that he could go ahead and say his peace, Peter lowered his hands. He lowered his head back to its original position and stared out into the distance of the city, his brow furrowing. He could sense Isaac's presence; the artist would arrive soon.

"I should have listened, I should have waited to talk to him. It doesn't matter now. I learned my lesson, right? I'll be more patient next time."

Peter knew Nathan well enough to know that the older angel was probably nodding, pleased for the time being. He felt Nathan clap him on the shoulder one last time before he saw Isaac round the corner, Simone in tow, and Nathan disappeared.

Perhaps he should have asked Nathan what the feeling in the pit of his stomach was, he realized, but it seemed that at the moment he had more pressing matters at hand; his charge, who he was supposed to make happy, certainly did _not _look that way at the moment; by the looks of it, him and Simone had been fighting—again. Though Peter wasn't blaming Simone—angels didn't like to blame people for crimes—she _was_ a cause of stress in Isaac's life. Peter would either have to find a way to _help _their relationship or to help _end _it—which ever would make Isaac's life easier; by the look of things, ending it seemed the better solution with the way that their relationship had been going lately—all downhill, just like the artist's life. All things took time and work though, and first thing first—Peter had to actually worm his way into Isaac Mendez's life before he could kick Simone out of it.

Peter kept his eyes on the bickering couple. Maybe this could play in his favor; maybe Isaac would go home to his own loft instead of spending the night at Simone's. It would definitely make things _easier _on the angel. He would have a harder time talking to Isaac if the woman was around; she would prove too much of a distraction.

He waited until he saw them enter the building before he teleported himself into an alley on the side of it, making sure no one saw him. He walked out in the form that he had used while talking to Isaac earlier that day, his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the building walls by the doors. It didn't take long before Isaac came out, this time alone and more agitated than he had been entering it.

Isaac hadn't noticed Peter leaning against the building because he had been in a rush to exit it, but Peter would change that. His social skills weren't the best when it came to humans, he knew—he hadn't talked to one in _years, _after all—but it couldn't be _that _hard, could it? The other angels had more practice at it than he did, but they all had to start at some point, right? Then again, the other angels didn't have _Isaac Mendez_ as their charge.

"Hey," Isaac, having heard Peter call out to him, stopped walking. Peter nodded at him once Isaac's eyes found the speaker. "You're the guy from earlier, right?" Peter straightened up and stood away from the wall, all the while coming closer to his charge. "The one I ran into?"

Isaac's shoulders straighted and he walked closer to Peter, his posture defiant; he was still expecting Peter to start something with him; the angel briefly wondered if the man thought that he had been waiting there the whole time for Isaac to come back so they could have a confrontation. It really wouldn't surprise him in a city like the one they were in, and Isaac had been jogging after Simone ealirer—the woman had decided that the fight had went on long enough and she had tried to get away from him—so he could have easily missed him leaning against the building.

"Yeah?" Isaac's dark eyes narrowed like they had been before. "What's it to you?"

Peter stayed quiet for a moment while he studied the man standing before him. It was obvious by his stance that he was hostile, and Peter really didn't know how to fix the situation at hand. He was running through possibilities in his mind, Isaac looking more and more irritated as time moved on, until he finally thought of something; he had seen plenty of angels charm their charges into doing what they wanted, and Nathan _had _told him that their was an air of innocence—along with feminism, but Peter didn't want to think about _that—_about him.

The angel relaxed his body as much as he could—what good would it be trying to get Isaac to relax if he himself was tense?—and took one last step forward before looking down at the ground.

"Nothing, man. I just..." He tilted his head slightly, looking up through his bangs, and reached his hand up to move them away, making the move seem as if he had done it absentmindedly. "I wanted to apologize for earlier." His lip quirked, a habit that he had possessed for as long as he could remember, as if he was smiling half-way. "You know, for _huddling, _as you put it."

Isaac's eyes narrowed farther, but after a moment he relaxed his shoulders; Peter's apology had eased his tension a bit. There was a pause before he answered, but once he did, Peter's lip quirked farther up as if his smile was growing.

"Apology accepted." Isaac eyed him as if he still didn't trust him—Peter didn't blame him; he could imagine that it would be hard for someone that had had Isaac's life to trust anyone—but he held out his hand for Peter to shake. "Isaac Mendez. Struggling artist, if you can't tell by the paint stains on my sleeve."

Just like picking a form to walk as, before angels came to earth they picked a background story. Some used their own, of course, not wanting to let go of their past, but others chose new names with new professions to introduce themselves as. It was a good idea to pick something that they actually _knew _about, and though Nathan and some of the other angels had gotten a kick out of the profession that Peter had chosen, he was proud of it; it was a job that he could help people with.

"Ah," Peter reached out and shook Isaac's hand. The sensation that he had felt while touching the man earlier returned, and he didn't want to let go so soon this time; he used the pretense of looking at the paint stains on Isaac's sleeve as a reason to hold on a little longer than necessary before finally letting go of the other man's hand. "Peter Petrelli. Hospice nurse."

Part of Peter had been looking forward to hearing Isaac laugh at his profession—most people _did _find the idea of a man being a nurse as funny, he had thought—butthe man merely raised and eyebrow and looked like he was holding back a smirk, which was a shame; Isaac didn't laugh nearly enough, and it was a pleasant sound in Peter's opinion.

"So, an artist? You any good?"

Peter already knew the answer to his question, of course; he thought that Isaac's paintings were good, but underrated; the man needed more attention, and, along with it, money; he looked like he was starving, an cause from spending most of his money on either paint or drug supplies. Still, if there was one thing to get an artist to open up, it would be about his artwork, Peter thought. He didn't have any other experience to compare it to, but it seemed to be working; Isaac hadn't walked away yet.

"I think so, yes. Some of my artwork is appearing in a local gallery right now. You should check it out."

Isaac had slipped his hands into his pockets, but Peter doubted that he felt modest or bashful. It was beginning to get darker in the city, and along with the darkness came coldness. Though Peter could do alright in the temperature, Isaac _would _get cold. The man would need to be getting home soon. It would do neither of them any good if he caught something. He didn't want to part ways just yet, but he _did _need Isaac to be getting home; besides, he would still be watching him, though the artist wouldn't know it and they couldn't talk anymore for the night.

"Sounds great. I should check it out sometime." Peter's lip quirked one last time and he paused before looking up at the sky as if just realizing how late it was getting. "I should also really be getting home. It's getting cold out."

When he looked back at his charge, Peter saw him nod. Good. He would be getting out of the weather soon too then hopefully.

"Yeah. Me as well." Isaac nodded one last time before he stepped back from Peter, apparently just now noticing how close they still were. "I'll see you some other time then? At my gallery, hopefully. If you can see with those godawful bangs hanging in your eyes."

Peter didn't know how to respond—he wanted to say something about the man's hair being longer than his own, but he didn't want to take the chance of making him mad again after things had just gone so smoothly—but it didn't matter; Isaac had turned to walk away and was already leaving.

"Are you sure you want me there?" He flicked his 'godawful' bangs—there was no way that the angels up in Heaven watching him weren't laughing at that—out of his eyes. "I might huddle against one of your paintings. Hey, it might even be an improvement!"

It was stupid, he knew, and reckless, but he couldn't help himself. He turned away before Isaac could reply and began to walk away, missing the fact that the man had stopped walking to look over his shoulder and smirk at him.

It was still only Peter's first day taking care of a charge—and a difficult one at that—and the man already liked him. The gnawing pit in his stomach had returned since Isaac had stopped touching him and it was growing as the man walked farther and farther away from him, but he was sure that it would disappear eventually. It was probably just a side effect from coming so close to his first charge so soon, he assured himself. All in all, it was a great first day—and it wasn't even over yet.


End file.
